


The Things that Make Us

by caffeineandjetfuel



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, MJN Air Is A Family, Martin Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 19:35:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caffeineandjetfuel/pseuds/caffeineandjetfuel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this Prompt on the CP Meme: </p>
<p>Martin's a secret hoarder. He tells people he lives with students so they won't ask to visit his home and he can pass off some of the visible mess as being their fault. He actually lives alone but most of the rooms are full of stuff he's 'rescued' from being thrown away in the course of his van job.</p>
<p>Maybe the years of financial insecurity triggered a need to stop things going to waste, or maybe the loss of his dad made him cling on to things that he percieved as having a sentimental value- even if they weren't sentimental to *him* they were someone's history and should be preserved- or maybe it's how his undiagnosed OCD manifests itself.</p>
<p>Just give me hoarding Martin being found out. Preferably by someone who understands enough to recognise it as an illness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Things that Make Us

“Thank you for helping today, Douglas.” Martin said for the fiftieth time as Douglas pulled the Lexus up in front of Parkside Terrace.

“Not at all, it was my pleasure. Now, let’s get you into the house then, shall we?” the first officer yawned. It had been a more physical day than he was generally used to, what with lugging the piano around Ottery St. Mary, and he was eager to get home himself, but not before seeing that Martin was properly settled with his injured ankle. In their two years flying together he had learned well that Martin didn’t take the best of care of himself. He would come to work ill, insist on doing things himself, it was a wonder he’d survived to thirty-three.

“Th-th-th-that’s okay, really, I’m fine. Fine. Absolutely fine.” Martin stammered and froze up, a panicky light coming into his eyes as he fumbled with the car door.

“Martin, you clearly are not.” Douglas frowned, getting out of the car and following around to the other side to help catch Martin as he nearly went flying into the ground in his alarm. His frown deepened as they reached the front door and Martin suddenly plastered himself against it, blocking the older man from entering.

“Yes, well, thank you very much Douglas I’ll see you tomorrow.” the younger pilot said in one long stream.

“Martin, let me in.” Douglas said, using his serious tone. Martin’s behavior was scaring him. He was usually flustered and animated but usually the trigger was obvious and the touch of fear in his voice wasn’t the norm.

“Douglas…” Martin swallowed and his eyes silently pleaded, but his shoulders slumped and he shifted out of the way. “Please…”

Douglas braced himself for the worst and opened the door. Things. There were things piled high against the walls, things blocking the way through to other rooms, things, things, things. Books and newspapers, broken furniture, figurines, stuffed animals, photographs, the list went on and on. He turned to look at his captain, his friend.

“…Martin…?”

Martin flinched a little at the sound of his own name. Douglas was looking at him in a way he’d never done before. It wasn’t disgust at the sight of his home, it wasn’t pity…it was just sad. Martin wasn’t sure which was worse. Of all the people he’d imagined seeing the state of his house, Douglas hadn’t been one. Why would he? They worked together but it had always been clear that theirs was a professional relationship. He glanced around to be sure none of the neighbors were looking before indicating Douglas to go inside, not wanting to have this conversation on his front stoop.

Douglas went ahead, stepping carefully over this and that, navigating the precarious piles of stuff. He halted when Martin started to give him directions on how to safely bypass a particularly large mountain of books and magazines by the stairs and the captain stopped talking, watching his tense shoulders in the narrow space.

“Where are the students?” Douglas asked, carefully training his voice to not let loose the waves of anger he was feeling. He wasn’t angry at Martin, no, he was angry at himself. How had he not seen this? How could he consider Martin his friend when he hadn’t even bothered to notice the younger man struggling until…

“You didn’t sprain your ankle teaching someone how not to sprain their ankle.” He interrupted Martin’s whispered apology for lying about living with students and turned in the cramped space to confront his captain, nearly overturning a pile of cans and the like. Martin had his eyes trained on the floor but shook his head.

“I…I slipped on a magazine on the stairs…” he whispered, nearly inaudibly. “I’m usually so good at getting around…it’s really not bad, I…I hold onto the rail there and step over the lucky cat statue and…and…”

“Oh, Martin…you understand this isn’t healthy, don’t you? You were in hospital today.” Douglas looked him in the eyes and he nodded.

“I never meant for it to get like this…I’m not normally like this, I just…it all got away from me, and then I was trapped, and I…” tears welled up in the shorter man’s eyes. “I don’t know how to dig my way out, my…my dad died, and they gave me his stuff, and it was just boxes of stuff and that’s all that was left of him, and then I was in my van and…and people just put boxes of things out there, like it’s garbage, like it’s worthless, and I can’t…I can’t leave it. I can’t, Douglas.”

Douglas grabbed hold of him and pulled him into a hug and god, Douglas was good at hugging. It felt warm and safe and the weight on his shoulders seemed to lift off when he realized Douglas wasn’t going to yell at him.

“It’s alright…It’ll be alright…You’ll stay in my guest bedroom tonight and we’ll get you back on your feet. I know we’re colleagues, but MJN is your family, too, and you have only to ask when you need help.”


End file.
